


Cherry Pink Wedding

by almaasi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - Human, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mindless Fluff, One Shot, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1596989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Real men don't cry at weddings. Except Dean – and this other guy, who goes by the name of Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Pink Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd... and kinda rushed, because I was so excited about this idea.  
>  **Warning** for brief mention of graphic animal cruelty.

The place was a cherry tree haven. Pink blossom adorned the grounds like a pastel carpet over the grass, and as the breeze swept by, flurries of colour danced like nymphs between the car park and the church. It was almost ungodly, and Dean would have remarked as much to his mother, Mary, as they trouped from the hired 1926 Bentley down the dusty path towards the chapel – but there was serenity here, it stilled his tongue. He hadn’t expected it to be this beautiful.

Today, Dean’s little brother Sam was marrying Jess, the girl of his dreams. And it was perfect.

The church shaded their eyes from the mid-morning sun as they entered. Mary sighed in relief, then glanced over at Dean, and they shared a smile. There was happiness in her eyes; Dean could see it, plain as day. She looked amazing in her long gown, golden like the sunlight, golden like her hair. She was a goddess, Dean had always thought she was.

Dean himself was wearing the most expensive set of clothes he’d ever owned. The pink pinstriped shirt fit elegantly, if loosely; he’d rolled the sleeves to the elbow, because he wasn’t wearing any kind of tuxedo, and he would look weird otherwise. He really liked the white Armani tie, he’d probably treasure it for many years. The grey pants were designer ones – he couldn’t remember the label, but they made his ass look good, which was all that mattered. He ought to have worn a suit, but he’d had so much rushing around to do during the morning before the ceremony that he’d long ago given up on being ‘proper’, and settled for practicality... with a little flair. He enjoyed the flair.

They took their seats, and Mary offered Dean a tissue. Dean shook his head.

Scolding, Mary said under her breath, “Sam has been your brother for the past thirty-two years of your life, the least you could do is not _sniffle_ during his ceremony.”

“I’m not gonna cry, mom,” Dean grinned, waving her off. “I’m a grown man, we don’t cry at anything.”

He was absolutely _not_ going to reference last week’s rerun of that gut-wrenching Spanish telenovela he couldn’t remember the name of. Anybody with a heart would’ve cried.

The crowd of guests filed in behind Mary and Dean. Dean didn’t know most of them – Sam was better connected than him, having gone to college and whatnot. Dean peered over his shoulder and saw plenty of people, young and old, fat and thin, black and white and Hispanic. He recognised a few faces, and waved to Gabriel, then Bobby, then Ruby.

They stood to sing a hymn. Dean had the book in front of him, but he still ended up mouthing random words, copying the vagueness of everyone else’s singing.

He sighed and flopped back to his pew once it was over. Singing was only fun when he was in charge of the tape player.

Looking over at the bride’s side of the church, he saw the pews were filled up with people with even more varied appearances. There were those who Dean recognised as Jessica’s immediate family, but then there were the _others_. There were several women with dreadlocks, a man with purple hair next to three tall, black men in fancy African garb, and a pale, skinny child with a piglet on her lap. The list went on, and Dean didn’t have time to catalogue the whole lot of them before Sam hurried by on his way to the altar.

“Hey,” Dean whispered. Sam didn’t hear him. “Hey, Sasquatch!”

Sam turned around, his fingers tangled in his bow tie. Dean grinned and beckoned him closer.

Sam stumbled as he got to Dean and Mary’s front pew, and he was blushing hot, eyes shining due to him overheating in his suit. There was a good reason Dean didn’t wear crap like that when he needed to run around.

“God, you suck at this,” Dean said, undoing Sam’s bow tie while Sam craned over the pew, folding up like awkward human scaffolding. Mary fussed with his cufflinks, straightened his pink cummerbund, then brushed his long, unruly hair back from his forehead.

“You nervous?” Dean grinned, adjusting the pink tie one last time before patting Sam on the shoulder. “You ready for this?”

Sam breathed softly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good,” Dean said. “‘Cause look out, the preacher’s here.” He nodded to the priest behind Sam, and Sam summoned the strength to stand up straight.

“Sam, wait,” Mary breathed. Sam turned back. Dean watched their silent exchange: a simple good-luck touch on Sam’s hand, their two smiles like reflections of each other.

When the wedding march started to play, Dean slipped into another mindset. He wasn’t just Sam’s brother now, he was Sam’s best man. He got up from his pew with a last squeeze on Mary’s hand, and stood at Sam’s side. He cast his eyes down the aisle, admiring the wash of sparkling light that fell across the red carpet. Oh, he’d planned it perfectly, everything to the second. Sam never knew how meticulously Dean had organised this for him.

Jessica entered the church on the arm of her mother, and suddenly she was the most beautiful flower Dean had ever seen. The rose bouquets either side of the aisle withered in her presence, her elegance was almighty. Each side of her dress was parted like the petals of a snowdrop in the early morning, awakening to see the sun; she shimmered like she was decorated with dew, walking gently.

She was a goddamn _fairy princess_. Dean’s mouth was hanging open.

Dean didn’t need to see Sam’s eyes as Jessica approached. Dean was sure he looked the same, and felt the same way – there was nobody in this room who wasn’t in love with her in this moment.

Jessica’s mother handed her over to Sam. Sam grasped her hand with his trembling fingers, his breath catching and his smile flickering like a bright, burning flame.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of Jessica Moore and Samuel Winchester, and to witness the beginning of their new life together. They will leave here as husband and wife, free to expand their family ties, embarking upon the grandest adventure this world could offer.”

The priest went on, and read what he was going to read. It was all religious stuff, Dean didn’t pay much attention. Jessica’s family were the Christian ones, Sam and Dean and Mary were just playing along to avoid argument. It wasn’t a big deal, not to Dean – if Sam fell for the God-fearing type, that was fine by him. So long as his little brother was happy.

Happy. Oh, holy crap, he was actually _happy_.

Sam, that was. Not Dean. Dean was neutral. Completely straight-faced, definitely not watching Jessica’s eyes fill with glittering tears or her smile shaking at the corners from how inexplicably joyous she was.

“Do you, Jessica Lee Moore, take Samuel Winchester to be your partner in life, to support and respect him in his successes and failures, to care for him – in sickness and in health – to nurture him and to grow with him, whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?”

Jessica’s voice was firm while her smile was wide. “I do.”

Dean could see through his tears. Of course he could. He didn’t cry at weddings.

“And do you, Samuel Winchester, take Jessica Lee Moore to be your partner in life, to support and respect her in her successes and failures, to care for her, in sickness and in health, to nurture her and to grow with her, whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?”

Sam laughed, nodding with his head down. “Yes. Yeah, God, I do.” He looked up at Jess, and Dean crumbled inside, feeling how earnest Sam was. This was it, this was Dean’s kid brother embarking on the second half of his life, and if all went well, it would be the better half.

“The rings, please,” Dean heard. He gasped, turning his head downwards to pat his pockets. He chuckled, grasping the lump in the front pocket of his slacks. The people in the church laughed too, as if he’d been joking. Oh, boy. He wasn’t cut out for this.

He held out the two rings with shaking hands. Where was the ringbearer when he needed one? Why did _he_ get saddled with this job? Why was he _trembling_?!

Dean watched the next part in slow motion. He could see Sam’s smile though his head, it was practically reflected in Jessica’s eyes. It wasn’t Dean’s fault that tear tracks warmed his cheeks; he’d never seen Sam with this much promise ahead of him. They were going to be happy together, have a family together. Dean was part of a real family now. This was so, so special.

Ring to finger, ring to finger. The whole congregation held their breaths. Silver shone on Sam’s hand, gold shone on Jessica’s. Their hands touched together, fingers twining.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest said, cheerfully. “You may kiss the groom.”

The change in the expected transcript made everyone pause for a second, but then laughter came, then cheers. When Dean blinked, he saw Sam embracing Jessica with his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck. Dean laughed, feeling tears trickle and tumble past his eyelashes. He looked over at Mary, overwhelmed to see her crying too.

Then his eyes – for whatever reason, he didn’t know – went to the other side of the church. He saw Jessica’s mother with both hands clasped to her heart, a big grin on her face. But two seats along, there was a face Dean had never seen before. He looked about Dean’s age, with dark hair, wearing the kind of tuxedo Dean was supposed to be wearing. He was crying too, a tissue pressed under his eyes.

Dean and the man made eye contact. They smiled, because they were both happy. It was a strange (okay, _very_ strange) moment, and it seemed to last far longer than it should have. It was like the sounds of celebration paused for a little while, so Dean could bond with a stranger about their inability to keep their manly tears restrained.

Then it all flooded back – the sunlight in the church, the wolf-whistles and the applause as the crowds stood up and cheered for the newly-married couple. They were still kissing, and Dean didn’t know if they’d been kissing for a long time or if Dean had been distracted for mere seconds.

Things shifted quickly from there. Jessica gathered up her dress and ran to the entrance of the church, laughing; Sam held her hand and ran after her. They were like children, bright and shiny. The audience stood to follow them, chirping and chuckling as they did.

In the meshing of people, Dean fell in beside his mother. Mary cried as she pulled his shoulders down to hug him, and Dean buried his nose to her shoulder, feeling like he was twice as happy as she was. His little brother had finally gotten to the good part of his story. It almost balanced out the years of misery, because things were going to be okay now.

Dean lost Mary halfway down the aisle, as she hurried off to squeal at old Bobby Singer. So Dean looked around, and immediately his eyes fell upon the strange, rather handsome man with dark hair and spectacularly blue eyes. The whites of those eyes were reddened from tears, but his smile was far from a surface-deep smirk. He looked like his soul was glowing, or something. He looked hugely happy, and Dean saw part of himself in that smile.

Their arms brushed together as they made it to the church door, where the breeze touched their faces and dried the last of their tears. Ahead, Dean saw the cherry blossom nymphs flouncing about the grounds, twirling around Jessica and Sam, who had wandered off to be alone. Dean laughed, seeing them enshrouded by perfect, swirling eddies of pink petals.

“Straight out of a Disney movie,” he grinned, chuckling to himself.

The stranger’s voice sounded raw and unfinished, as he said, “If you’ve ever watched the sequels to Disney movies, I think you’d find there isn’t always a happily ever after. At least, not the kind the first movie implies.”

Dean stared at him in surprise for a few moments, letting the tide of churchgoers pass them by as they stood on the stone steps. This man had startled Dean with his words and his uncommonly deep voice. Dean licked his lips to reply. “Uh. I – I hope that isn’t some sort of ill-wishing crap, buddy. ‘Cause if it is―”

“Oh, no! Not at all,” the man said, leaning closer to Dean and putting a careful hand on his wrist. “I wish them all the happiness they deserve. I was only taking issue with your comparison.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “Okay.”

“Dean!” Mary called, waving Dean closer. She stood on the path outside the church, mingling with a mismatched bunch of Jessica’s guests.

Dean muttered to the stranger, “‘Scuse me,” then hopped off the steps and towards Mary. “Hey,” he said to her, smiling as she introduced her company.

“These are Jessica’s friends,” Mary said. “You know, the ones from the rally.”

“Oh! Oh, right,” Dean said, forcing a smile. His eyes searched for the stranger, some part of him still wary of him, or still curious. He located him, lurking by the edge of the crowd, staring towards the cherry orchard where Jessica and Sam had gone. He had broad shoulders, and a firm but slouching posture.

Mary was talking, but Dean had already disconnected himself. He stepped away, not even thinking about being rude – he heard Mary snap after him, but he drifted onwards, heading for the stranger.

“I’m Dean,” Dean said to the man’s turned back.

The man turned his face, eyes lowered. He was still smiling. “A pleasure to meet you, Dean,” he said, in that fascinating voice of his. It rumbled in Dean’s chest, and he had a feeling it would do the same thing even at a whisper.

“What about you, who’re you?” Dean asked, planting his hands on his hips and gazing out at the beautiful flow of nature before them. “I read the guest list, but I’m not great with names.”

“Castiel,” the man said. “I – work with Jessica.”

“Nice,” Dean said, nodding. Funny, that name did seem familiar... “So you’re some sort of political activist too, huh? Guess you run in weird circles when you know her.”

Castiel hummed a laugh, caught behind closed lips. He had pink lips, darker than the blossom, and they were flat, forming a straight line as they pressed together. His blue eyes flicked to the blue sky, reflecting that too. He was like a mirror for his surroundings, he blended well. Dean had no idea why he stood out to him.

“So, uh,” Dean said, when Castiel didn’t reply. “In case you’re wondering, I’m Sam’s older brother.”

“I surmised as much,” Castiel smiled. His eyes turned to Dean’s Armani tie, which Dean stroked downwards, preening. Castiel’s gaze then lifted so his eyes met Dean’s. “I thought the best man was supposed to wear a tuxedo.”

“Eh,” Dean shrugged. “Been there, done that. I work better in casuals.” _And my ass looks amazing in these pants,_ he added, but he didn’t say it aloud.

Castiel made a thoughtful sound, briefly looking back to the milling crowd. He apparently felt their chatter was drowning his low voice, because he pushed his face in the direction of the grounds, then set his eyes directly on Dean’s. “Would you take a walk with me? It would be easier to talk.”

“Sure,” Dean said, skipping after the stranger. He commanded a following, Dean didn’t understand that either. Walking in Castiel’s wake, Dean inhaled. Castiel smelled like a hotel pillow on the morning after a fun night – aftershave gone stale and clothy, but still somewhat well-kept.

“I flew in from Massachusetts,” Castiel said, striding slowly yet purposefully towards the trees. “This morning, in fact.”

Dean grinned. “Well, you look good, for someone who just crawled off a plane. Me, I roll out of bed and I look like this.” He winked, realising too late that he was flirting. Whoops.

Castiel’s eyes roamed Dean’s figure as they strolled, and Dean wondered if his cheeks might soon match the pink of his shirt. When Castiel smiled and turned his eyes away, Dean felt a tickling desire to make him look again.

“This place is beautiful,” Castiel remarked.

“I picked the venue,” Dean said, scampering ahead into the trees as they reached the first breeze-ruffled branches. Castiel was watching him. Excellent. “Sam and Jess wanted a spring wedding, I figured it would be nicest with all the cherry blossom.” He reached up and delicately pulled a bloom from the nearest tree. Petals shimmered as the branch stretched into Dean’s hand, then bounced back to where it was before. He smiled at Castiel, then offered him the plucked flower.

Dean didn’t know where this was coming from. Maybe it was the romantic setting, or the whole _wedding_ thing, or the fact that Sam was four years younger than Dean and had been in a happy relationship longer than Dean could maintain a diet. Maybe Dean was just the kind of person who chased tails at weddings.

Castiel took the cherry blossom from Dean’s fingers, twirling it as he smiled. He gestured with his nose towards Dean’s chest, and gently asked, “Did you pick your shirt to match the trees?”

Dean laughed, head tilting. “Naw, man,” he grinned. “I coloured up the entire _wedding_ to match the trees. Everything’s pink, or didn’t you notice? Sam’s freakin’ bow _tie_ was pink.”

“I noticed,” Castiel said, with a deft frown that vanished quickly, becoming a smirk. “I didn’t realise you were the culprit.”

“It started as a joke,” Dean grinned, stepped backwards, further into the trees. The church was hidden by branches and blossom, and their new privacy made this even more wonderful. “I picked whatever colour Sam would hate the most, but then it turned out Jessica loved it, and Sam just ran with it. It was meant to piss him off, I figured I’d get his goat eventually, but he was just... chill. About everything. ‘Do whatever you want, Dean,’ he said. So I got him a pink goddamn cummerbund.”

Dean ran his hands through the blossom as he passed, delighted by the soft way it touched his palms and eased between his fingers. “And,” he went on, turning to face Castiel while walking backwards, “Turns out, historically, pink was the most ‘ _masculine_ ’ colour, or whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Trust Sam to know that before I did. No wonder he didn’t care.”

“Pink suits you,” Castiel said kindly. “It brings out your eyes.”

Dean glanced down at his shirt, then back at Castiel. “My eyes?”

“They’re green,” Castiel said, still pacing towards Dean, while Dean slowly led him back. “Warmer colours would bring out the pigment well. Now I think― Dean, look where you’re going!”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s wrists, wrenching him closer, suddenly pushing a hand up into the small of his back. Dean grinned a little, surprised to discover Castiel had rendered him breathless. He looked behind him, seeing there was a bench there, which he would’ve tripped over had it not been for Castiel’s hands.

“Thanks,” Dean breathed.

“Sit down,” Castiel said, his hand sliding up Dean’s back as he let him sit on the bench. The stone was cold on Dean’s ass, but now he could safely look up at Castiel, and Castiel gazed down with a bizarre fondness in his eyes. Dean felt fond of him too, and it wasn’t just because he was attractive and mysterious and had rescued Dean from creating an _America’s Funniest Home Videos_ episode highlight.

...Okay, maybe it was all of those things. But it was also the fact that Dean finally remembered where he’d heard his name. “Oh! ... _Cas_ tiel!” He gawped at the other man, who was still holding Dean’s wrist as he sat down beside him. “You’re that guy!”

“Which guy?”

“The guy Jessica was telling us about. Her best friend, she said.”

Castiel smiled at the petals that landed on his black shoes, but he didn’t say anything.

Dean inched closer, licking his lips as everything Jessica told him over dinner months ago came back at once. “She said – you were the guy who got up on top of a school bus. Holding a sign or something. Wearing― What was it?”

“Giraffe body paint.”

“And nothing else,” Dean finished. He grinned lopsidedly, looking at Castiel in a totally refreshed light. “Look, don’t tell Sam I ever said this, but that whole ‘save the animals’ thing, the activism thing? It’s sexier than I let on. I’d do it too, if it wouldn’t... Well.”

“Well? What puts you off?” Castiel looked at Dean sternly, as if daring him to say something controversial.

Dean found he didn’t know the answer. He shrugged. “Guess I’m not as brave as Sam. Or Jess. Or... or you. I like my job, you know? You guys get arrested for the shit you do all the time. The whole waving banners thing, it looks fun, sure – but if I want someone to notice me, I’d keep my clothes on. Just saying.”

Castiel peered at Dean with raised eyebrows, shades of caution layering themselves in his tired eyes.

Dean shook his head, awkwardly retrieving his wrist from Castiel’s fingers. “I’m not saying you’re doing it wrong. I’m saying I’d do it differently. I’m not college educated, all right, so anything I’ve got in life right now, that’s me having worked my way around the crappy system to get. I can’t throw that away over some shitty zoo in Denmark.”

“You’re saying an innocent giraffe who was murdered and fed to the lions is _not your problem_ , is that what you’re saying?” There was a chill in Castiel’s voice now.

Dean fidgeted. Then he looked guiltily down at his shoes, the tip of his tongue poked between his taut lips. “Um.” He smiled sadly, looking away.

Then he sighed, turning his face up so he saw the fluffy white clouds swimming along through the blue. “Look,” he said, shutting his eyes and focusing on his words, “I care about what you care about. Sam talks about this stuff all the time, and I pretend I’m not listening, but I am. I’ve been sitting on the sidelines for years. He goes off and does his government taunting, all that political, social, peaceful and friendly rioting, whatever else takes his fancy. That’s how he met Jess. I’m not – ready for it yet. But I want to be. Okay?” He looked straight at Castiel, imploring him to understand. “I want to save the world like you do. Maybe I―” He swallowed and shrugged. “Maybe I just need someone to hold my hand, help me ease in. I never wanted to ask Sam to do it for me, that’s all.”

Something softened dramatically in Castiel’s eyes. He smiled like he had earlier, like he was glowing from inside and it happened to tilt the corners of his mouth. And before Dean knew it, his face was inches away, and Dean had no breath left.

“W-w-wait, what’re you doing?” Dean stammered, unsure if he wanted to lean closer or away. “Are you gonna―”

Castiel didn’t move, just gazed at him and waited for Dean to decide. His eyes were sky blue, his lips were cherry pink. His smile was a mirror for Dean’s, and Dean couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and kissed him.

Castiel kissed like a ship coming in to dock, like Dean was only pressing his lips to the prow. He knew from the stories there was so much more to Castiel, there was furious, terrifying passion in him, and Dean was only seeing the sweet part, the part that kissed strangers in the midst of falling blossom at weddings. He felt all that in the kiss. There was more to the softness.

Dean broke the kiss first, all the whispers of the trees and the faraway mumble of wedding attendees muffled and overtaken by the heavy, heavy beat of his heart. He’d flirted, and promptly screwed up, but somehow they ended up here.

“Uh... wow,” Dean whispered, smiling shyly at his lap. “You kiss good. U-Unexpected. But good.”

Castiel chuckled, running the tip of his nose against Dean’s jaw. It was innocent in a way, but a part of Dean yearned to have more of that. It was too intimate for a first time; it was meant as a temptation for times to come.

Fingers, warm fingers, they twisted between Dean’s, threading a lattice on his lap. As words fell into Dean’s ear, Castiel’s whisper did exactly as Dean had expected; it quaked in his chest, made his heart stumble. “I’ll hold on to your hand for you. And show you how to save the world.” He was smiling.

Dean turned his face and pressed his nose against Castiel’s, foreheads together. “I’m gonna see a lot of you in the future, you know,” he said, then nudged his lips to Castiel’s, still hungry for him. “Birthdays, anniversaries. When Jess and Sam have kids... we might end up seeing each other weekly. You don’t think this might be awkward? Us having kissed? At their _wedding_?”

Castiel’s fingers opened out against Dean’s cheek, a thumb grazing his blush. He shook his head, rocking their faces together. “No. I think the story of us having first kissed at their wedding – I think this will be a story they’ll tell for a very long time.”

Dean retracted his face by an inch, smiling as he searched Castiel’s eyes. “What d’you mean? _First_ kissed?”

♥

Four years later to the day, Dean and Castiel Winchester rushed from the church, laughing with their hands holding tight, their hearts bright and shining. They ran like children towards the cherry trees, looking behind them to check nobody was following.

“Last one to the bench is the catcher tonight!” Dean yelled, putting on a new burst of speed. He threw off his tuxedo jacket as he sprinted, and it fluttered to the ground like one of the petals that danced nymph-like around them.

Castiel laughed, and he laughed hard, knowing Dean was going to lose on purpose.

{ _**the end**_ }

**Author's Note:**

> That godawful zoo mentioned is [Copenhagen Zoo](http://bit.ly/1uP5vRD), and the giraffe was [baby Marius](http://bit.ly/1ohRWIz). Don't click those links unless you want your day to be ruined.
> 
> Anyway. I hope this fic brought joy and happiness. It was inspired by [this post on tumblr](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/85302590760), which, incidentally, also brought joy and happiness.
> 
> Please leave me kudos if you enjoyed this! (P.S. I love you)


End file.
